The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Novel)

“Phew!”
Ghislain let out a loud laugh, exhaling deeply as she sat atop the hot air balloon.

It had been a long time since she’d experienced such intense tension. Even in her previous life, there were only a handful of moments that matched the thrill of this one.
Moreover, having dealt a severe blow to both the Duke’s faction and the Royal Army, she couldn’t have been more pleased.
Watching Ghislain revel in her excitement, Belinda shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re absolutely reckless.”
One misstep, and they would have been captured and executed. Even Belinda had felt her heart freeze at the sight of the enemies swarming toward them.
And yet, Ghislain seemed too busy laughing to care.

Belinda spoke with a tone of reproach.
“Is it really that satisfying?”
“Of course! Nothing beats the thrill of putting them in their place like this.”

“No one’s going to stop you from being yourself. But did you manage to secure the goods?”
At her question, Ghislain pulled an item from her cloak. It had been a challenge to keep it intact during their escape.
Everyone’s eyes focused on the item she revealed, curious about what had caused all this chaos.

When Ghislain produced the object that Berhem had referred to as the Orb of Life, their expressions turned grim. The sinister energy emanating from it was unmistakably similar to the magic circles of the Rift.
In contrast, when Ghislain revealed a goblet and a necklace, everyone’s expressions shifted to astonishment. Among them, Parniel and Piote’s reactions stood out the most.
“This is an extraordinary amount of divine power.”

“W-Wow! My lord, is this a holy relic?”
Ghislain shrugged nonchalantly.
“No idea. The enemy called it a relic, but I have no clue what it’s used for. I’ll figure it out soon enough.”

The moment she removed the necklace from the goblet, the divine energy that had been glowing around it dissipated. Everyone stared at the necklace with wonder—except for one person, Ereneth.
‘Why does that item exist here?’
Her face had turned deathly serious.
Ereneth knew exactly what it was. While she couldn’t explain why divine energy radiated from it, she recognized the object itself.

The necklace and the goblet had once belonged to a companion who had fought alongside her against a calamity that threatened the world ages ago.
Even after countless years, she couldn’t possibly forget.
‘Why are these in the hands of the Ruthania royal family and the Salvation Order…?’

Everyone noticed Ereneth’s peculiar reaction. Her unusual response stood out in the group.
Finally aware of the attention, Ereneth forced her expression to soften.
Ghislain narrowed her eyes and asked, “What? Do you know what this is?”

Ereneth shook her head.
“I don’t.”
“You seem like you do.”

“I don’t.”
“Hmm…”
Not only Ghislain but the others also looked at her with suspicion.

The awkwardness was palpable. Ereneth’s lack of acting skills was glaringly obvious.
Letting out a deep sigh, Ereneth stiffly added, “It merely reminded me of an old companion’s belongings. But it’s not the same item. My companion’s was just a plain necklace, without any divine power.”
Ghislain chuckled and nodded.

“Alright. I thought you might know something useful. What a shame. Well, we’ll figure it out in due time. Until then, I’ll keep it on me.”
‘Not the same? Don’t lie to me.’
Ghislain suspected otherwise. Ereneth had fought against the Salvation Order for centuries—she must know something.

However, since she clearly had no intention of revealing anything yet, he decided to let it go for now.
He would investigate further and subtly pry information from her. Forcing the truth from someone as dignified as the High Chief of the Elves was hardly a viable strategy.
The others seemed to share Ghislain’s thoughts and chose to drop the matter. After all, everyone had their secrets.

Changing the subject, Belinda furrowed her brows deliberately.
“My lord, what are you planning to do with that ominous orb?”
“Hmm.”

Ghislain fell into brief contemplation. While he could absorb the orb’s energy, it didn’t seem like it would have a positive effect.
If it could make him stronger, he wouldn’t usually hesitate to use it. But this… it was repulsive and unsettling.
The orb contained the extracted lifeforce of countless people—taken in a cruel and agonizing manner.

As Ghislain deliberated, Parniel offered her advice.
“That orb holds only malice and resentment. It would be best to destroy it and release the trapped spirits.”
“Resentment?”

“Yes. The orb likely contains fragments of the will of those who were drained of their lifeforce against their will. The priests of the Salvation Order seem to amplify their power by exploiting the anger of the unjustly slain.”
Piote nodded emphatically, joining in.
“Y-Yes! Those poor souls should be blessed and released!”

“I see.”
Ghislain had already found the orb repulsive, but learning this sealed his decision. Both Parniel and Piote, who possessed divine power, clearly sensed something far more sinister.
With this revelation, the thought of absorbing it became entirely unappealing. Destroying it seemed to be the best course of action.

“We’ll get rid of it properly once we’re back. For now, is everything ready?”
Gillian nodded firmly.
“Yes, my lord. We are ready to deploy at any moment. Ferdium has nearly completed their preparations as well.”

The northern forces had been battle-ready for quite some time. They had only waited for Ferdium to finish their preparations.
After all, establishing a new king wasn’t something that could be achieved simply by winning a war.
As Ghislain fastened the necklace around her neck, she spoke with resolve.

“Good. Let’s take this kingdom.”
***
Crash!

“Argh! Bring me more! More prisoners!”
Berhem screamed, his bloodshot eyes glaring wildly as he threw objects across the room. Those nearby trembled in fear at his unhinged rage.
The king had fallen deeper into madness, openly slaughtering people indiscriminately.

But he saw no other choice. To prevent his body from deteriorating, he had to continuously absorb the lifeforce of others.
“Chamberlain! Why is it taking so long?”
“Your Majesty, please wait a little longer. More prisoners will arrive tomorrow.”

“And the Duke’s house? Are they sending prisoners too?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Half of the captured prisoners are being sent to the south.”
Marquiss Domont gave his report, his expression dark.

To create another Orb of Life, an enormous amount of lifeforce was required—not only to maintain the king’s body but also to provide prisoners for the southern forces.
At least 100,000 lives were necessary to sustain the king during the creation of the orb.
But how could such a massive number of prisoners be obtained all at once? It was becoming increasingly difficult to meet the demand.

Drooling uncontrollably, Berhem snarled, “Are you telling me there are no more prisoners in the capital? Then make more!”
“Your Majesty, Cardenia is the heart of the kingdom. If we deplete its population further, the entire kingdom will cease to function properly.”
“Grrrr…”

Berhem ground his teeth, forcing down his insatiable greed.
As king, he knew he couldn’t let the kingdom collapse entirely. Destroying the capital would lead to total ruin, so he restrained himself from committing large-scale massacres there.
Instead, the population of other regions was rapidly dwindling. Armies under his command were capturing people indiscriminately across the kingdom.

Even the royal demesne was running out of people. The rampant arrests had crippled productivity, leaving the land desolate.
The desperate royal court pressured local lords to hand over their people and prisoners.
But the nobles were at a loss.

“The king has gone completely mad.”
“Aligning with the Salvation Order wasn’t enough—now he’s slaughtering the people indiscriminately.”
“Demanding even our serfs and villagers? This is too much!”

It was no longer a secret that the king was using the dark arts of the Salvation Order to sustain his body.
“We cannot hand over any more of our people.”
“But what choice do we have?”

“No one can stop the king’s madness.”
Initially, the lords had reluctantly given up only their prisoners. But the king’s demands grew increasingly excessive.
The problem was that the king, having seized power during the war, commanded a formidable military force.

With armies sent to enforce his will, the lords had no choice but to comply.
To make matters worse, the royal court had struck a truce with the Duke’s house and allied with them. No one could oppose such a powerful faction.
The northern army had already retreated to prepare for an eventual confrontation with the royal and ducal forces, while rumors spread that the allied forces were disbanding.

Nobles who had once united to defend the kingdom now lamented their predicament.
“How did the kingdom come to this?”
“The royal family will ultimately fall to the Duke’s house.”

“The king’s court is now filled with nothing but cruel and wicked people.”
Despair gripped the lords as they watched the kingdom deteriorate.
But it wasn’t only the king’s madness that troubled them. Those who had always disliked Marquiss Branford and Count Fenris were quick to side with the king.

These opportunists, emboldened by their new positions, were wreaking havoc—arresting people, imposing heavy taxes, and seizing all remaining wealth.
Even the carefully preserved finances of nobles like Marquiss Branford were being plundered.
Everyone was consumed by their own greed. In just a few months under the king’s rule, the kingdom had fallen into complete disarray.

“This kingdom is finished.”
That was the honest sentiment of the remaining nobles. No longer were they concerned about the kingdom’s fate—they feared for their own lives.
Anyone opposing the Duke’s house or the king was at risk of being falsely accused and destroyed.

Rumors were already spreading through the capital: when the king ran out of people to exploit, he would seize an entire estate as an example.
To survive, one had to kneel to the king and willingly offer their people.
The kingdom was collapsing. Everywhere, the cries of the suffering echoed ceaselessly.

“Please, spare us!”
“I’ve committed no crime!”
“I beg you, at least spare the children…”

The royal army spared no one—young or old. In fact, the younger the victims, the more their lifeforce pleased the king.
Even the soldiers who carried out these atrocities found no solace in their actions. They, too, had once fought to protect the kingdom from the Duke’s house.
But with most of the officers now loyal to the king, ordinary soldiers had no choice.

As one young soldier wept while escorting captives, a senior soldier grabbed him by the collar.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut? Do you want to die too?”
“But…”

“Shut up! Wipe your tears and endure it. If you don’t, we’re all dead.”
The senior soldier gritted his teeth, struggling to suppress his own tears. Soldiers, too, could be dragged away for the slightest insubordination.
Those once tasked with protecting the kingdom were now its executioners.

Captives and captors alike were drowning in despair.
Clank, clank, clank…
The somber procession of innocent prisoners was filled with silence. Only the favored commanders of the king laughed and joked.

The captives, having given up on life, said nothing, while the soldiers were too consumed by guilt to speak.
Even those who remained free had been stripped of everything, left to starve. Excessive taxation drove many to suicide.
And yet, a spark of hope remained.

One soldier, his head bowed in despair, noticed a piece of paper on the ground.
“Huh?”
Curious, he picked it up.

“What…?”
The paper bore a single message:
[Hold on a little longer. The wolves of the north are coming to save you.]

The soldier instinctively looked up at the sky.
Though faint, he thought he saw birds flying in the distance. Further away, more pieces of paper fluttered down.
Quickly, he crumpled the note and stuffed it into his pocket, his face flushed with a glimmer of hope.

“Could it be…?”
The term ‘wolves of the north’ had long referred to a certain territory.
An estate that had endlessly battled barbarians on the frontier. A land mocked for its poverty, yet steadfast in its duty.

The estate that produced the kingdom’s strongest force: Count Fenris and the northern army.
“Ferdium!”
The message promised their arrival.

At that moment, in Ferdium, preparations for deployment were in full swing.
The entire army exuded the sharp intensity of warriors ready for battle. At the forefront stood Zvalter, mounted on his horse, his expression more resolute than ever.
Homern, Ferdium’s chancellor, wiped sweat from his brow as he spoke nervously.

“My lord, the preparations are not yet complete. To deploy now, without accounting for the Duke’s forces—”
“It’s too late.”
“Pardon?”

“I said, it’s already too late.”
“What do you mean…?”
Zvalter turned his gaze to the sky and replied,

“There’s no time to wait. The people of this kingdom are drowning in despair. I can no longer stand by and watch.”
“My lord…”
The king and the nobles had crossed every line.

It wasn’t just the king who needed the Orb of Life—even the nobles aligned with him had joined in the ruthless exploitation of the people.
Zvalter could no longer tolerate it.
“I do not march for the throne. I rise for the sake of this kingdom. What meaning is there in becoming king if I ignore the people’s suffering now?”

“My lord…”
“Even if I lose my life due to our lack of preparation, I must act now.”
Homern and the other retainers lowered their heads, unable to argue.

This was the man Zvalter had always been—the one who had guarded the north for decades, earning the respect of all his people.
Though he had planned to retire and pass everything to his son, Zvalter now stood as he once had—an unyielding force, embodying responsibility and resolve.
Raising his hand, Zvalter spoke with a heavy voice.

“Army…”
His command reverberated through the ranks.
“March on Cardenia. We will hold the king accountable for his crimes.”

Boom!
With Zvalter’s order, the Ferdium army began its advance toward the capital.